


Six Impossible Things (Before Breakfast)

by fractalserpentine



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mechanics, Plug and Play Sex, Tentacles, Warning: contains Ratbat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 00:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1449355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalserpentine/pseuds/fractalserpentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twinkle, twinkle, little bat</p><p>How I wonder what you're at!</p><p>Up above the world you fly,</p><p>Like a tea-tray in the sky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Impossible Things (Before Breakfast)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HopeofDawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeofDawn/gifts), [whiteaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteaster/gifts), [femme4jack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme4jack/gifts).



> Loosely affiliated with the Sound and Fury and/or Domesticus AUs. 
> 
>  
> 
> \---

 

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat

How I wonder what you're at!

Up above the world you fly,

Like a tea-tray in the sky.

 

\----

 

“You stop that!  You stop that right now!”  Ratbat flailed his way across the desk, hit the edge, and took wing, plump little chassis straining.  “You’re doing it wrong!”

“Are not are not!  Pink goes to gree--eep!” the other two glideframes scattered, abandoning their project as they fled the onrushing Rage of Ratbat.  Shrill squeaks and cries echoed from the repair bay walls as all three little symbionts raced in loops and curlicues around the big room, their bit of wiring forgotten.  “It was right!  We know it was -- eep no no!  Eep fly away fly away!”

The pair of thoroughly-terrorized symbionts made a break for it, swooping out the main hatch as an engineer entered.  “Whaa-- scrap n’ sparks!” The full-size mech ducked as wings flurried around him, cheeps pinging off his plating, narrowly escaping a spiky little pede to the faceplates.  Hunched over, he looked around as the squabbling flock vanished around a corner.  “Hey, this is Central Intelligence, not a slagging flight course!” he shouted after them.

None of the little glideframes saw fit to answer.  

 

\---

 

“Hm.”  Motif looked up.  “Think we’ve got incoming,” he said thoughtfully, swinging himself up to Crosswise’s pauldron with easy dexterity.

His carrier tilted his helm, and carefully laid his datapad aside.  “Why yes, it does sound that way, doesn’t it?”  The panicked squeaking grew louder.  Crosswise turned, the cams of his dock covers unlatching.

The hatch of Crosswise’s study hissed open, and two glideframes shot through like they were on rockets, followed by a shouting third.  Crosswise bared his docks and engaged his grav guides -- just in time.  Transforming, the first two glideframes slid into place.  Motif lunged out with long arms, catching the third right out of the air before he could crash into Crosswise’s fragile docks.  

“Aaack!  Let me -- let me go!” Ratbat’s wings flailed everywhere as Motif handled him carefully but firmly.  The bigger symbiont hugged the little glideframe close -- mainly to avoid being kicked in the solenoids; Motif had hard-won experience, oh yes he did -- while Crosswise’s chestplates slid shut.  “They’re -- they were doing it wrong!  Inefficient!  Let me go!” 

Crosswise pushed himself to his pedes, stretching luxuriously to unkink his tubing, while he reassured his two glideframes with gentling comms.  A break really would be nice; he’d been at this a while.  Ignoring the ongoing battle-of-the-shoulder-plates and the occasional wingtip-over-one-optic, he headed for the main archive center, just a few hatches down.

He pinged the door _.  //I think I have something that belongs to you--//_ he started, smiling, but the hatch was already sliding open.  Crosswise drew a deep ventilation as he stepped into the massive, darkened chamber.  The air always smelled so nice -- crisply cool, tinged with the rarified ozone of dozens of massive mainframes crowded together into one place.

Soundwave was in his usual spot, seated comfortably, cables splayed to hook into more terminals than Crosswise cared to count, fully submerged in the rushing datastreams.  Here, all the archives of the empire were at a mech's cabletips, from the growth ring databases of Telorian sandstone, to the financial hubs of Praxus, to the dimensional physics mainframes of Iacon, and everything in between.  Central Intelligence was a massively sprawling department, devoted to acquiring or projecting the most accurate data, all so that the Prime might chart the best possible course for civilization.  The department was staffed by tens of thousands of mecha across the galaxy, but this... this was unquestionably its heart, its very spark.  

And Soundwave was its Master.  

Crosswise and Motif waited patently, wingtips flailing around their helms, as the other carrier freed his threads from the datastream, a few at a time.  Soundwave blinked.

Ratbat's high-pitched litany hadn't ever stopped.  "--and then they wouldn't listen and I had to tell them *twice* but they weren’t being efficient so--"

"Query, Ratbat?" Soundwave straightened, lifting his hands.  With a vent of relief, Motif released the little glideframe to the air.  Wings flailing akimbo, the symbiont carved an erratic circle around the teal carrier, squeaking his indignation, before landing on Soundwave's gauntlet in a dramatic slump.  

"Would.  Not.  Listen," Ratbat managed, tiny vents blown wide with his exertion.   

"Situation, very unfortunate," Soundwave agreed placidly, stroking the overheated little chassis.  "Trials of day, many.  Ratbat, must be at his best for these challenges; wishes to recharge?" His chestplates were already sliding back on the ranked line of docks.

"Okay!" Ratbat needed no excuse to dock!  He paused just long enough to cast a beady crimson glare in Crosswise's general direction.  "Don't let 'em think they're off the hook, though!"

Crosswise nodded gravely.  "I'll make sure they know," he said solemnly, intending to do nothing of the sort.

"Or you, neither!" Ratbat sniffed, jabbing a wingclaw at the other cohort.  Soundwave made a small motion, as if to slide his chestplates closed.  "Eep!" the little glideframe squeaked and scurryied to transform.  Soundwave guided him lightly into place beside all the other resting symbionts, large and small, carefully closing them inside.  

Soundwave drew a slow ventilation as Ratbat linked up, all his tiny clawed connectors threading into just the right ports, cables linking, thin filamentous tubing joining system to system.  The glideframe, exhausted by all his adventures, promptly dropped into recharge, cradled in the embrace of his carrier’s repair and support systems.  Then Soundwave looked to Crosswise.  "Soundwave, apologises.  Query: Glasswing, Motif, Freeflight, Leftturn, Clearw--?"      

Motif waved happily.  "All fine!"

Crosswise grinned.  "You worry too much," he said, stepping carefully over the other carrier's coiling silver cables.  He took in Soundwave's doubtful look.  "Here, see for yourself," Crosswise laughed, set a knee on the edge of the padded chair, and straddled Soundwave's hips.

The command chair yielded pleasantly as it took the other carrier's weight, plating brushing slick plating, teal on cobalt, chrome on silver.  Soundwave hesitated, talons curving lightly over the projections of Crosswise's hips.  

"Mmn, you won't be able to tell like that.  Here," Crosswise murmured, his own digits curling around the bigger carrier’s wrist, drawing the broad cobalt palm away... to press against the tinted micrometal of his chestplates.  The clearplate was very nearly indecent for a Chronicler, affording glimpses of the biolights of the symbionts docked within.  

He knew exactly how much Soundwave liked it.

Taloned cobalt hands - first one, then both - smoothed over the glossy metal, long trailing strokes that lingered over the warmly glowing fields of the symbionts within.  "Mmmn," Crosswise twisted into that touch, making no effort to hide his enjoyment.  He was sleek for his frametype, still boxy with six docks, but more lithe and lightly armored than his elder brother.  He leaned into the bigger mech, subtly urging those blunted talons higher.

Soundwave drew a ragged ventilation.  Crosswise had three symbionts docked now, the lights of their frames glinting through the transparasteel.  Their fields were warm, rounded, almost tangible, drawing at his hands as Soundwave dipped his fingers through the glowing auras.  Always so fascinating, to see the happy fieldswell from this side, to see the way the smaller auras of electromagnetism danced as they filtered through the thick armor….

Chirring, Motif firmed his grip on his carrier's pauldron, ducked down and forward, and pushed his helm under one stroking cobalt palm.  As always, Soundwave stilled, hesitant.   

\--Crosswise just smiled, thumbs stroking the cobalt carrier’s flank plating, as if Soundwave were himself a wary symbiont in need of soothing.  The blunted tips of his talons hooked between spread leaves of armor, teasing at wiring, ghosting over sensor beds.  Motif chirred and butted closer, the ribbon-like sensory blades of his nape lifting up to beg attention from clever cobalt fingers.  

Slowly, Soundwave relaxed, tensors loosening, curling his talons through those flexing ribbons to lightly scritch the frame beneath.  Motif purred his approval, inviting more stroking along his jawline.  Soundwave traced the fine edges of each plate, inspecting places that Ratbat might have scraped with all his flailing, feeling for chips or irregularities.  He couldn’t help but marvel at the fine geometry of glossy black traces over arctic-white; at a distance, Motif looked simple and gray, but up close the color resolved into nuances, beautifully complex.  The climbframe’s plating was always so warm, silver and obsidian….

"Mmn, you know, you should probably check the rest more closely, now that I think about it," Crosswise purred in his audial, field radiant and sweet as highgrade.  Teasing, slow, he let his dock cams slip.  

The heavy slabs of clearplate opened from the center, smoothly sliding apart, just laying everything bare as they exposed the docks, one by one.  Claspers, holding plates, shadowed slide rails and pulleys, the exposed sides of the docked symbionts: everything.  

Soundwave felt as if he’d been transfixed, his great banks of processors snarling with code as carrier routines executed in tangled cascades.  The sight of fragile, bare docks -- one adjusting even now for Motif (Soundwave’s symbiont, a greedy thread whispered in the darkest corners of his processors), should have invoked nothing but jealous defensiveness.  And yet…

...and yet there were aeons of familiarity between them, and so much trust in this act, and this was a carrier he’d known nearly from sparking, and Crosswise’s cohort was as full as Soundwave’s with no physical space for another symbiont, and… and the willing display of this forbidden thing coiled fire through him, every time…

In that moment of hesitation, Motif chirred his amusement -- perhaps oblivious to Soundwave’s tension, perhaps knowing very well how it inevitably played out.   “Definitely should check me too, Soundwave!” he laughed, and transformed, all his edges folding under, parts sliding into compact architectures.  Crosswise’s antigravs caught the angular flurry, guided the symbiont neatly inside to dock beside the others.  

The electric snap of grav guides and magnetic rails plucked at Soundwave’s own chestplates, tugged at his digits.  And then Motif was a narrow vertical strip of marbled white and black, nestled beside green, bronze, and yellow.  Glasswing, Freeflight, Jighasp.  Slowly, with great caution, Soundwave reached out… touched, dipping his fingers through the vibrant glow of fields.  He stroked so gently down the long strips of the tight-folded symbionts, reveling in… in having this, being allowed this.  Four small fields glowed happily, dancing with sensation.  The claspers of the empty docks, their symbionts roaming elsewhere, caught at his talons as he ghosted over them.  It felt like they tugged at his spark.

Crosswise’s clever digits hadn’t been still.  They curled now just below the angles of Soundwave's dock prominence, tracing the heavy linked plates of his abdomen, petting each sensor-rich seam.  The slow, deliberate caresses raised fine shivers of pleasure, kindled a feedback fire that made the armor flare, inviting those touches deeper.  Crosswise obliged.  The blunted curve of his talons dipped in, lingering over bare wiring and pale sensor cillia, soft tubing and fine-threaded protometal.  

It felt so good, deep sensors firing in places rarely touched, stroking all the way through him.  Soundwave shuddered, trembling.  He gasped aloud as the other carrier found a cam follower, hooked fingertips applying a careful scraping pressure around the reciprocal bearings.  And under that gentle, drawing touch, the mechanisms responded, gears clicking, wiring shifting up.  Components moved, transistors lifting to seek out more of that careful attention.  A broach line twisted, fine serrations drawing up, pleading, silver chamfers begging for more of that touch.  The prongs of a clevis disengaged, rotated out.  Pinion gears followed, idlers releasing tension in waves of white-hot sensation.  

Threaded through with glittering lines of starstuff, metal bloomed, reaching for more.  Components spiraled up in spikes and fractalline whorls, a blissful flowering of pleasure, circuits crackling with ungrounded charge.  Bright blue sparks popped between Crosswise’s fingers and Soundwave’s delicate components. “P-please--” Soundwave gasped, vocalizer crackling, frame shaking.

Crosswise purred, rocking the claspers of his bare docks against Soundwave’s careful touch as he rose up a little… and let his midline armor open, all along the flat planes of his abdomen, surface and subarmor all folding back.  Hardware surged at that first glimpse of orderly wiring beneath, and Soundwave could not bite back his low growl of need.  So smooth, so receptive, crossheads and yokes all just laid sensuously bare.

Soundwave dared not trust the unshielded symbionts to his trembling talons now.  He gripped at Crosswise’s hip gimbals, force multipliers trembling as he fought against the blistering need to drag the other Chronicler closer, to press his components inside in one great rush of forged connections.  But the loss of the touch of the symbionts’ fields -- he wanted, he needed….

Vocalizer glitching in panting gasps, Soundwave arced up, forward… and *licked*.  A long stripe, slow, up the center of Motif’s docked form.  The symbiont flexed in pleasure; Crosswise shivering with his own bliss at the stretch and press within him.  “Yes, oh yes Primus just like that,” he whispered, talons cupping the back of Soundwave’s helm, guiding, encouraging more of this sweetly careful attention, the prickle of glossa over this most sensitive part of him.  

And, thigh tensors quaking, Crosswise let Soundwave draw him down, draw him closer.  The jagged tips of Soundwave’s inner components met the smooth overlay of wiring, sparks popping between the two mecha’s frames.  Crosswise gasped, hips flexing, then pushed down.   

That first spread, as the flowered tip of a hasp parted delicate sheaves of wiring, felt like a thunderbolt, shockingly intense.  Crosswise gasped panting ventilations, warm curls of air against Soundwave’s audials as the bigger mech breached his frame.  Hot jolts of electricity snapped between them, grounding in arcs.  Components shifted, making room for the devices that spread them open.  Even still, Soundwave was a big mech and the fit was a tight one, dragging threads of protometal and the budded nodes of sensors over one another in a delicious, potent rush.  

“Slow, easy--” Crosswise gasped, begging, before his vocalizer broke on a high-pitched feedback squeal as Soundwave mouthed at his docked symbionts, laving careful attention over each deep-sunk frame.  Hips rocking, Soundwave pushed up into the heat of the other mech’s frame, slowly driving the penetration deeper.

Always so full… so big.  Crosswise savored the pressure, the creak of his hipjoints and swell of his armor as he sank down, parts shifting to make room as Soundwave’s hardware flowered open inside him.  Another slow, rocking shift and the heavy links of a reactor chain nudged at his components, pressing in beside all the other impaling parts.  Crosswise gasped a sobbing ventilation against Soundwave's helm as it spread him even more, snaking inside, forging connections.  

Soundwave drew him down.  Just when Crosswide thought he could take no more, plating kissed smooth plating, navy against jewel-tone teal.  Crosswise’s weight settled fully onto the bigger carrier.  He clung, shaking, just feeling this penetration: foreign hardware, protometal, coding, so huge inside him -- and yet all so familiar.  The barbed possession felt as if it had sunk to the very spark of him.  Every tiny shift set off a new series of autonomic transformations, new internal connections and crosslinks.  So very, very good… “Hu--aaah!” Crosswise’s vocalizer broke on a high feedback squeal as Soundwave pressed him just a little wider, just a little more… slowly, slowly feeding the flanges of one more draft tube between his components, into his aching frame.  

Connections settled, wires crossed.  And then Soundwave pressed an electrical bolt of pure pleasure over the interlaced hardware.   

“Nngh! -- Primus!” Crosswise jerked back, against the strong talons at his hip flanges that kept him pinned, kept him from writhing.  Bliss chased every conduit, cracked across every juncture.  He cried out again as Soundwave surged up, the full spread of his cables flexing.  Crosswise’s folded sensor panels hit the slope of the viewscreen console behind him, the bigger carrier’s frame just pinning him there, jolting inside him.  

Overload hit him like a freighter, shaking him to the spark.  White lightning crackled between his plates, like hot fingers crawling his heaving frame, grounding with bright pops on the consoles, on Soundwave, between the cables splayed around them.  "S-Soundwave-"  Crosswise had to reset his vocalizer again, as his optics flickered back on.  

He blinked up into a crimson visor.  Soundwave covered him, a great, looming presence over him, a shadow against the flickering lights of the mainframes -- and inside him to the core.  He panted shallowly, vents unable to cycle fully in the charged aftermath of overload, as he watched Soundwave free his cables, one by one, from the data terminals.

First two, then four, then dozens of weaving silver lengths rose up above them, a dense halo, visible strength on full display -- as if Crosswise, pinned and impaled, spread out on the data consoles, were a rival.  Or… or a courted symbiont.  The tip of one cable dipped down, multitools spiraling open, mobile cillia sheaf a shock of electric blue at the tip.

And then those clinging, curling tendrils touched the bare rim of one empty dock.

Crosswise felt his frame seize, dock trying in vain to clench down around the stimulation.   “Nnngh -- S-- ‘wave--”  All the little mechanisms there, the antigravs and railguides, draw pulleys and torquesprings, were exquisitely sensitive to a symbiont’s touch and field.  The direct electrical input… left him writhing, still-shivering tensors trying to push him up into more of that delirious, crackling contact.  

Thin filaments of living electrical exchange curled around sensor nodes and gravguides, exploring all the exquisitely sensitive surfaceparts never meant to be bare to another carrier’s touch.  And then more cables bent to his wantonly open chest, multitools flowering open, releasing their blue-white tendrils to stroke and twine… around the docked shapes of Crosswise’s symbionts.

“Aah!”  Motif, Jighasp -- he could feel them flex within him, curious and happy, reveling in the new experience as much as they did in the careful pulses of input.  Current and fieldflow sparked along the close-folded symbionts, pure sin, while the cable at Crosswise’s empty dock... slowly, slowly dipped inside.

Electrifying, acetylating, every part of him a torch that roared with burning pleasure -- Crosswise arced with a soundless scream,  popping bolts of blue lightning leaping between his frame and Soundwave’s, crawling the places they joined.  His vents shuddered, clicking uselessly.   Crosswise’s eight cableports irised open, letting his own lengths snake free, a silver weave that caged them both.  And still there was more, pulsing input funneled deep into his docks, triggering all the tiny mechanisms meant to link to a symbiont’s systems.  

The pleasure spilled over, charge grounding up into Soundwave’s own shuddering frame, echoing and rebounding.  Cascading pleasure built between the two mecha, capacitors charging full, and then more.  

"S-soundw- ah!"  One hard jolting thrust crossed even more relays between their frames, seating the whorls and spines of Soundwave’s hardware deeper still, and the world fragmented, broke apart at the edges, awareness crumbling in the bow wave of this pounding charge.  

They tipped over together, two mechanisms made one, in a scouring bolt of pleasure that sintered fine wires and reset every cortical fuse -- system after linked system, one symbiont after another, succumbing in purest euphoria cascade.  

And later, much later as Crosswise’s circuitry began to report back, one blown drive at a time, his hardware and every one of his cohort buzzing with release, luxuriating in the sensation of being embraced by two carriers simultaneously… Crosswise could manage only a single thought.

He really, really needed to encourage his cohort to tempt Ratbat out more often. 

 

\---

 

Puttering around the repair bay, Scavenger found something new.  It didn’t look like one of the engineers’ projects.  It was small, for one thing, like a sparkling toy.  Little bits of wire stuck out at haphazard angles from between fragments of variously purple-ish plating, as if it were half-finished.  And it was… well, lumpy, too, with strange limbs set at odd angles.  Was that a wing?  It seemed fastened on backwards, if so.  Unless that other end was the front, in which case the other wing was on backwards.  

Scavenger studied it from several angles.  He looked around, then scooped it into his hands.  No, this end was definitely the front.  It had a certain offset symmetry, he thought, turning it this way and that.  The purple was a pleasing shade.  He rather liked it.  Would anyone miss it?  It was just lying here, on this unused table, off to the side.  Scavenger could fix the mismatched wiring easily enough.  The tail was loose; he could fix that too.  Maybe it was meant to do something, when put together right?

Already hurrying back to his quarters, Scavenger decided that he knew what the new thing looked like.  The ‘miniature’ and ‘purple’ aspects had thrown him off at first.  But he could see the shape of things now: it was definitely, *definitely* a gryphon.  

Well, now it was Scavenger’s miniature purple gryphon.  It was going to look so nice with the rest of his collection.  He couldn’t wait!


End file.
